02.22.08 :: 5:33 pm

it's been a helluva 24 hours.

in short: the car is totaled.
we survived though, and Tater is just fine, just splendid and alive and gorgeous beyond belief (well, as gorgeous as you can get as a 2D image with your bones showing).

i saw it happening just like the cliche goes: in slow motion.

green means go in these United States, n'ect ce pas?
And go we did, but someone from the left was in a real big fucking hurry to (as Lindsay put it) get his screenplay about a talking ferret over to Universal on the ASAPs because through the red light he goes careening.
and his front end smashes into our driver's side, sending me and my insides to the left and to the right all abruptly.

i saw the car coming, in slow motion, and i heard my scream in slow motion as well.

when the impact was over i didn't even get out of the car.

people started milling around, watching the scene evolve.
and i remember observing, "No one is calling 911, they're all just looking at me."

Mercifully, help arrived and i got my first ride in an ambulance.
Ryan stayed on the street to deal with the tow truck and the royal asshat who ran the red.

my abdomen hurt and in my panicked state, i couldn't tell if it was baby-hurt or seatbelt-hurt and i grabbed the EMT's arm and kept asking "Is the baby OK?"

The answer wouldn't arrive until three hours later, after the most harrowing emergency waiting room experience ever.

I sat frightened and achy next to meth- and crackheads, stabbing victims, drunks, homeless, and basically any and all fringe elements you can think of.
for three hours.

finally i was wheeled into an ultrasound room where the tech was kind but couldn't tell me what he saw.
so in silence i imagined: a ruptured amniotic sac, a placenta torn free from my uterus, blood pooling inside of me, the baby in distress... anything and everything.

it was, to say the absolute least, unbearable.

finally he asked, out of nowhere, "Do you like rock and roll?"

Mystified, I answered, "Uh... yeah?"

And he turned the screen and showed me my Tater's wee hand, rocking out.

I stared in disbelief.

I cried out "Oh my God, he's OK, thank you!"

And the tech smiled and whispered, "I didn't tell you anything."

Mercifully, Tater was unharmed. Except for a rush of adrenaline that made him kick up a storm, he's absolutely perfect.
Thank you, Nature's airbag.

We're all OK, thankgodfully.
We're sore today, in our seatbelt areas but I don't care, I don't care I don't care.

the bizarre part of it all was that both Ryan and I knew we were going to crash about five seconds before it happened, before we even saw the other car.

it was like a snapshot in my head showing me the future.

In any case, this pretty much was a big neon flashing sign to us that we don't belong here, driving every day, and endangering Tater and ourselves every day like this.

the soonest we're able to get out of here after Tater's birth, we're out.

Oh, and I named him last night. It came out when I saw his hand waving at me.

Hello, Oliver.

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